


Reply All

by ImJaebabie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP, cant believe it’s come to this, science labs, snapchat disasters, updated rating for accuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 15:26:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJaebabie/pseuds/ImJaebabie
Summary: Jaemin has a bad habit when he's drunk. It sometimes produces...interesting results.





	1. a mistake

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to post this yesterday, didn't get around to it, please be kind since i've never posted something like this before! [nervous]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vodka + jaemin = regret

“I swear it’s the truth.”  
  
“Jaemin, sorry, but accidentally hitting ‘reply all’ to one campus wide email doesn’t seem like enough to justify why you transferred to this school mid-year.”  
  
Jaemin bites hard on the inside of his lip, firmly holding Mark’s unimpressed gaze.  
  
“Yeah ok, but my reply was nudes.”  
  
“Oh. Well fuck, why didn’t you say so. That’s way worse.”  
  
“It went to the faculty too.”  
  
Renjun winces with his entire body. “That’s a pretty massive mistake to make,” he says, “how do you fuck up bad enough to put nudes in a reply-all?”  
  
“I thought it was Snapchat.”  
  
“Dude.”  
  
Leaning over the table, Jaemin clasps his hands together and pleads with them. “That’s why I am begging you that if, no, _when_ I get drunk tonight, you have to take my phone away immediately. I can’t afford to change colleges twice.”  
  
Mark pats him on the back reassuringly. “Now worries man, we’ve got you. You’ll have to graduate from this hellhole just like the rest of us.”  
—  
  
“Good morning, sweetums, how do you feel?”  
  
Jaemin would groan but his mouth is too dry. He whimpers instead, his eyes screwing firmly back shut against the light and the sight of both Renjun and Mark sitting at the foot of his shitty dorm bed. He mentally curses Renjun for being the type of roommate to constantly have his boyfriend over.  
  
“Did I get dragged behind a car? Feels like I got dragged behind a car. Or was I drinking cement?”  
  
“I think the drink was called a Brain Blender...I definitely told you there was enough vodka in there to knock out a horse, but you still drank it.”  
  
“Fuck me.”  
  
“You said that when you drank the fourth one.”  
  
Jaemin does groan then, the pounding headache like a jackhammer on his prefrontal cortex, and wishes so much that he had told them to stop him from drinking instead of just asking to have his phone taken away.  
  
Oh god. His phone.  
  
Jaemin shoots up. “My phone,” he croaks, “did you take it?”  
  
His friends look too calm, eerily still and solemn.  
  
“Technically, yes,” Renjun says slowly.  
  
Mark holds the device gingerly in his hands, and his voice is weirdly soothing as he says, “Now don’t panic, because everything is fine—“  
  
“That is _not_ what you say when things are actually fine!”  
  
“But it is! You didn’t drunk-email the whole school your dick!” interjects Renjun.  
  
Then what are they doing in his room? Jaemin rubs his aching eyes, his hands coming away smudged with dark purple eyeliner, and glares at them. “Then what did I do? Because you wouldn’t be here—“  
  
“We aren’t allowed to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep?”  
  
“—if I didn’t do something. So what is it.”  
  
“Don’t transfer.” Mark looks nervous.  
  
“Mark what the fuck. Tell me what I did!”  
  
Mark passes him the phone carefully, and Jaemin snatches it from his hand. Unlocking the screen, he starts to flip through his apps. Everything seems fine—they weren’t lying about his email; the last thing he sent was safely a full day ago.  
  
“We got your phone from you as soon as we realized you were wasted,” explains Renjun in a small voice, “but we may have realized you were wasted a _tiny_ bit late.”  
  
Jaemin closes out of instagram—nothing wrong there—and opens Snapchat, the real one. He stares at his recent activity, and feels his blood slow down in every vein, all time coming to a straining halt like a train braking on the tracks.  
  
**Jeno Lee** ****  
_➡️ Opened ° 7h_  
  
The bitmoji face mocks him, with its nerdy glasses and sides-swept black hair.  
  
“W-What...did I send...” Jaemin whispers, cold tingles creeping over his scalp.  
  
Mark shakes his head. “We have no way of knowing. But based on context and your record...well, we got to you as you came out of the bathroom. You sort of...” He looks to Renjun.  
  
“You cackled like an evil demon and tossed the phone to us with the app still open. Nothing we could do.”  
  
“So you may have sent _one_ person your dick. We’re sorry, Jaemin.”  
  
Jaemin nods very slowly. He locks his phone and sets it carefully on the windowsill, and turns slowly to his pillow, then pulls his blankets up over his entire body and head.  
  
“Jaemin?”  
  
“Thank you. Goodbye to you both. I appreciate your efforts, even though it was for naught.”  
  
“That’s a little dramatic,” sighs Mark.  
  
Renjun huffs. “It’s just Jeno. I better not see you anywhere near the registrar's office today.”  
  
Just Jeno. _Just_ Jeno. Jaemin would laugh if he wasn’t so busy trying to tell his body to just let go and die. He probably sent Jeno Lee, the most stunning creature on earth, and lab partner he’s been (not so)silently pining over for the last two months, at least one drunk nude, so naturally he has to stop living.  
  
“You won’t see me anywhere today,” he replies, “I’m going to die from this hangover and that’ll be the end of it. Please tell my mom I love her, my brother he can have my PS2, and Donghyuck to go fuck himself. Goodbye.”  
  
The bed shifts as his friends stand up, grumbling things like _‘drama queen’_ and _‘no one even wants a PS2 anymore’_ as they finally leave the room and Jaemin to his misery. The door shuts with a click and Jaemin curls into a ball, begging the universe for sleep.  


  
He wakes up to a succession of cheery noises. It takes him a few minutes to recognize them as sounds from his phone, and to blindly knock things off the sill until he puts fingers on it and pulls it under the blanket where it’s dark.  
  
The searing light of the screen tells Jaemin he’s been asleep for a few hours, and it’s nearing lunch. He unlocks the screen, and his stomach flips at the little red notification hovering over Snapchat. Shaking, he opens the app.  
  
There’s a snap from Jeno. Jaemin taps it.  
  
It has a caption, but Jaemin can’t read it. His brain won’t register words, not when met with a picture of Jeno with the tip of a banana perched at the cusp of his pink lips, the fruit curving down and held securely as Jeno’s long fingers wrap around the remaining peel at the base.  
  
Jaemin stares for ten long, dizzy seconds. Ten terribly short, terribly incredible seconds. When his vision clears, he replays the snap.  
  
_not quite a fair equivalent but, hey ;). don’t forget to eat something good today. u looked drunk af. <3 _  
  
Jaemin can’t say for sure if it’s the snap or the caption that breaks his brain. Either way, he screams.  


“S-shit! Jaemin! What the fuck?!”

  
It’s at that point he learns Renjun has returned to their room, and pulls the blankets away to the see thin boy clutching his heart and sitting on the bed opposite, a book in the other hand.  
  
“I’m leaving this school!”

It’s that, or face Jeno in lab on Monday, and Jaemin would rather declare General Studies as his major for the _third_ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aprils fool, of course. [painfully aware im not funny]
> 
> we all know i don't post E rated things. this PWP stands for Plot Without Porn, thanks for coming by, i'll probably change the rating or delete this later. have a great day. :*
> 
> ((edit:: rating changed after april 1))


	2. boiling point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i guess u could say they experimented in college

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i changed my mind. 
> 
> made this bed so im gonna lie in it or maybe set it on fire.

It starts with chewing on his pens. Or maybe Jeno has always done that? Jaemin can’t remember, but maybe he’s been drunk for two months because he’s sure he’d recall if Jeno had been constantly sucking on the caps of every fucking ink-carrying item in sight.

“Can I interest you in a pencil?” Jaemin asks one Monday, not too long after the Snapchat incident that he has so far successfully pretended never happened. Maybe if he can get the guy to write with something that has a worse taste(erasers are _not_ yummy and there’s nothing anyone can say to him about it) then Jaemin can survive his labs with some sanity.

Jeno shakes his head, pulling the pen out from between his lips with a pop. “Nah. I prefer ballpoint.” He rests the writing utensil on his tongue, giving Jaemin an open-mouthed smile and view of his perfectly white teeth, before closing his lips around it once more.

“That’s very nice. Excuse me for a bit.”

Jaemin leaves the room. Thank god the bathroom is nearby.

—

Things go downhill when they get to the lab on plant cells. Is there _any_ good reason why so many of the provided dissection options have to be rather long, sensual looking vegetables? Is there _any_ good reason why Jeno chooses only those to bring back to his and Jaemin’s table?

Jaemin has never hated a cucumber more.

He makes clean, steady slices into the yellow squash from the tray and pointedly ignores(re: tries to ignore) Jeno handling the cucumber so...vigorously.

“It’s really firm.”

Jaemin’s hand shakes slightly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever wondered why cucumbers have these little bumps? It’s all rough. What’s the point of it feeling so rough?”

“Got me, maybe this lab will tell us.”

Jeno slides his hands all over the vegetable, like he’s never held a fucking cucumber before. Which is absurd. Jaemin is pretty sure the guy is a little older than him, he’s had to have touched one, maybe many. Maybe he’s actually a cucumber connoisseur, has spent a lot of time handling cucumbers, analyzing their weights and girths, testing them for hardness—

There’s a smooching sound, and Jaemin looks up from the microscope in shock to see Jeno pull the green veggie away from his lips. The professor is busy typing attendance into the computer, and so Jaemin gawks openly.

“Rough _and_ soft. But a little bitter…”

Jaemin is out of his chair at the speed of light. “Would you cut that out—I mean up? And put it under the lens? I’ll be right back.”

As Jaemin slams his way into the bathroom stall and fumbles with his belt buckle, he wants to cry. At this rate, he’ll will have to transfer schools just for failing a basic lab.

—

The lab topic is human anatomy. On their table are two bissected models, one female and one very, very male, with little color-coded organs and surprisingly accurate, very 3-D appendages.

Jaemin swallows thickly and tears his eyes from the model to look at Jeno. His stomach is in preempting knots, and he feels afraid.

Jeno blinks at the models like they bore him, then slides the female one towards himself and begins studying the digestive tract.

“We just have to ID all the visible organs and mark them on this handout, right?” he asks.

“Y-Yes. Right.”

“Okay.” Jeno gets to work immediately, his neat writing filling in scientific titles on the appropriate lines.

Jaemin turns to the male model, and feels vaguely mocked. That was anticlimactic.

“Could you get started?” Jeno interrupts his solemn reverie. “I guess you want to take your time, but I’m eager to finish early. Besides, if you keep waiting it’ll just get harder, when you have to rush to get everything out. Onto the handout, I mean.”

He is not so sure that is what Jeno means. But Jaemin cannot read the stare Jeno has fixed on him, cannot be sure, because what if the guy really does just want to get out of lab early and get to lunch faster? That’s totally reasonable. As reasonable as it is for Jeno to twirl his pen like that in his long fingers and be tapping it against his lip.

“Or maybe you prefer that kind of challenge?”

Ah fuck.

“I’m just gonna—“

“I know, your regular bathroom break.”

“—um, uh yeah, I’ll just—“

Jaemin bolts.

—

Jeno sits down on his stool with a thump and turns to face him.

“Jaemin.”

The workbook has a long list of boiling points. Jaemin doesn’t glance up from them, but continues to arrange the row of Erlenmeyer flasks filled with liquid that they will shortly need to begin testing so that they match the lineup of temperatures.

_“Jaemin.”_

“Yeah? What?”

When he looks up, Jeno is staring at him with a flushed face. A heat creeps up his own neck at the sight.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Why?”

Jeno opens his lips to answer, but the professor raps on her desk at that moment and starts giving the lab instructions, and Jaemin can’t afford to miss what they need to do for the next hour.

“Later?” he suggests, and turns to the front of the room although Jeno frowns.

It’s such a relief, thinks Jaemin as they progress on the lab, that there’s nothing in their work today that can possibly turn him on. He’s finally safe for once, can probably even stay in the room for the whole period.

Jeno flicks the Bunsen burner switch. A flame springs up.

The flask half full of milk totters slightly as Jaemin sets it on the burner, and he steadies it. He knows that one will boil almost as quickly as water, and more messily, so he keeps a close eye.

“Jaemin, can I ask you something?”

The milk bubbles gently.

“What’s up?” Jaemin taps the glass to release one of the thin bubbles so he can see better.

“You’re pretty good at labs, right?”

The milk boils as fast as expected, and Jaemin notes down the temp and time. He guesses he’s alright at them. But why ask? Does Jeno have another one lined up for next semester, and want to stay partners?

“Sure,” says Jaemin as he lifts the flask of salt water onto the burner, “but this is the only lab I’ll have to take unless I pick one up for an elective. The other ones are more difficult though so I don’t expect to do that.”

“No I mean…” Jeno sighs, like he’s frustrated about something, and picks up the thermometer. “You’re good at observing, analyzing and making the right conclusions.”

Well, that’s flattering. Maybe he does have that kind of talent, if he thinks about it. Jaemin glances up. “I guess so,” he replies, smiling.

Jeno is chewing his lip, and kind of squirming in his seat. For what reason, Jaemin couldn’t hope to guess. Then his large eyes dart to the burner.

“It’s boiling,” Jeno says quietly. He sticks the thermometer in the liquid.

Jaemin makes notes, taking extra care to sound knowledgeable as he devises his conclusions. As he does, Jeno switches out the salt water for ethylene glycol, the liquid settling over the flame and looking comfy. That one ought to be a while.

“Okay, this one should take longer,” Jaemin says, sitting back from the desk slightly.

It’s silent for a minute, and Jaemin thinks Jeno is an odd mix of quiet and talkative today. And...nervous?

His fingertips pick up the thermometer once again. “So why…” Jeno starts, not meeting Jaemin’s gaze when he looks over, “why don’t you ever observe me?”

“What?”

Hasn’t that been the _only_ thing he’s done?

“It’s been _weeks_ Jaemin. We’ve done every kind of test, experiment and reaction there is but why can’t you pick up on anything I do?”

The room is filled only with gentle murmurs and the soft bubbling of different liquids, and Jeno’s harsh whispering feels loud and obvious. No one’s looking, exactly, but aren’t they hearing him?

“I don’t...what do you..”

Jeno leans closer to him. “What about my reactions, Jaemin? Can you analyze those? ‘Cause I’m…” He glances at the flask, and back. “I’m reaching my boiling point, Jaemin. So what conclusion can you make of that?”

What the hell? Why is Jeno speaking in science? What conclusion _can_ he make of this? Jaemin’s head is spinning. Jeno’s hand is centimeters from resting on his knee, and he’s staring at him so intensely Jaemin feels like yeah, he _could_ be about to boil. But why? From what kind of catalyst? At what temperature does a Jeno Lee bubble over? And what happens then?

“Well what is your, I mean, to boil, what kind of temp—“

“Should we find out?”

Jeno lifts the thermometer and guides it towards his mouth, not breaking eye contact as the drop of red Mercury nears his lips.

Jaemin feels trapped, confused...a little turned on? _Not_ again…

“Mister Lee!”

The professor’s shrill voice rings out, startling them both back. While Jaemin just barely stops himself from falling off his stool, Jeno drops the thermometer and stares, red-faced at their lab notebook.

“I hope,” she continues, “you were _not_ about to put that piece of lab equipment in your _mouth_. Because that would be extremely dangerous and very much against lab safety rules!”

“I’m sorry,” Jeno squeaks, “I wasn’t going to, I was just joking, I promise.”

The professor doesn’t look convinced, and Jaemin certainly isn’t, but Jeno looks so penitent that he can’t imagine anyone continuing to reprimand him.

“Good. Then I’ll expect not to see anything like that again. Now, please pay attention to your liquid before it overflows.”

Jaemin swiftly flicks the burner off and measures the glycol, but their results are fucked now. Even if the temp is right, they missed when it started to boil, meaning their timing is off. God, he hates when the timing is off.

Jeno mumbles something.

“What?”

“Did you know, blood has the same boiling point as water?”

“And?” Honestly, at this point Jaemin is so fucking confused he wishes Jeno would just stop, just drop whatever’s gotten into him today.

“And...Jaemin. I’m not stupid. What do you think I’ve been doing every lab? I’m good at analyzing too. So unless I’ve gone blind recently, I think I have a good idea what it takes to get you to 212° Fahrenheit.”

He pulls the corner of his lip into his mouth, and Jaemin sucks in a breath.

“What’s your point?”

“The point, Jaemin,” Jeno says at the bottom of his voice, “is that I wish you’d notice when I’m there too. ‘Cause I am. And I’d really like you to do something about it.”

With that, he puts a hand directly on Jaemin’s thigh, and it’s like a film has suddenly cleared off Jaemin’s brain. Oh. Well, sure, if he thought about everything sort of contextually, it does seem a little weird that Jeno would act like he’s got an oral fixation in every lab, because normally people don’t just broadcast that shit, unless they specifically want someone to...to…

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

Jaemin is breathless. “Okay.”

Jeno stands. “The one on the first floor. By the side entrance.”

“Yeah, alright.”

He looks pointedly at Jaemin for a second, then leaves.

The lab notebook stares up at Jaemin as the room fades to background noise, the words written there only a jumble, and Jaemin tells himself to breathe. This must mean...well it _has_ to mean Jeno likes him, at some level, right?

Or he wants. Y’know. His dick.

Jaemin has to brace himself on the table when the realization hits him. Had the snap…had Jeno liked it? Way back then?

He stands up, the stool knocking over in his haste. “Bathroom,” Jaemin half yelps, when the professor glares at him. Then he’s out the door, running for the stairwell and almost tripping and braining himself on the painted concrete. He skids into the first floor hallway and around the corner, nearly passing the door to the bathroom there. He had practically forgotten it existed, so far was it from any classroom of his.

Breathing shallowly, Jaemin knocks on the door. “Jeno?” he whispers, brain buzzing, because what if he took too long, what if he’s already gone and someone else is there, angry at him for interrupting their shit with his desperate whispering—

It opens and a hand drags him inside inside the single-stall room, then the door slams shut with a decisive lock-click as Jeno backs Jaemin against the tiled wall.

“Good god Jaemin, I almost gave up on you,” he hisses, crowding into Jaemin’s space and slipping a leg between Jaemin’s own. His hands find Jaemin’s neck on one side and hip on the other, and Jeno breathes against his collarbone, and suddenly Jaemin understands everything he was saying about blood boiling.

“I think,” Jaemin stutters, “I’m actually maybe not that good at labs. Or observation and analysis, anyway.”

“Probably not.” His hand leaves Jaemin’s waist and finds his wrist, pulling his hand up where Jeno can see it. “You have steady hands, though, that helps.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. With lots of stuff. See?” With that, Jeno puts Jaemin’s pointer and middle fingers directly into his mouth.

The damn. Oral. Fixation.

Jaemin chokes. “Oh my god.”

If Jaemin thought Jeno’s lips looked good around a banana or a pen, it’s nothing on how they look sucking around his fingers, his eyes wide open first then fluttering shut. He _must_ be boiling inside, ‘cause there’s no other explanation for how hot his mouth is or how wet, and the only possible thing that could feel better would be that same heat but somewhere lower.

He’s hard embarrassingly fast, and Jeno’s thigh pressing into his crotch isn’t helping anything.

Jeno pushes his fingers out with his tongue and licks at their tips, sighing. “Fuck, I love your hands,” he says. “I thought if I had to stare at them for one more class without this happening I’d really go insane.”

Jaemin allows himself to push his free hand into Jeno’s hair. “Seriously?”

The way he pushes his head back into Jaemin’s palm as his grips his hair, it seems pretty serious.

“Yes? I just kept trying to think of ways to tell you I wanted it. After that snap you sent I thought you already did too. You’re really confusing, you know?”

Jaemin does know, now. He also knows the way Jeno keeps grinding their hips together is insanely distracting, and so, so good.

“It’s cause I’m a fucking idiot. I was drunk when I sent that.”

“I know. But you sent it.”

“I sure did.”

Jeno leans into his neck again and licks at his skin. “So can I suck you off?”

That would be a huge, obvious _yes_.

Except that Jaemin’s absurd romantic virus of a brain has to step in the way.

“Can I kiss you first?”

Jeno meets his eyes, the hungry look feathering at the edges and he even seems to blush. “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

Guiding his head forward, Jaemin connects their lips without hesitation, wrapping his other arm around Jeno’s waist till they’re flush pressed together. He knows it’s not actually romantic, ‘cause they’re still in a bathroom in the sciences building, and maybe he just wants to know what Jeno tastes like before that mouth is all over his dick, but he just felt like he needed to kiss him.

He definitely doesn’t regret it. Jeno’s mouth feels just as nice against his as it did around his fingers, and he gets messy fast, clambering up higher on Jaemin’s thigh so he can get a better angle to keep chasing after his tongue. Jaemin’s dizzy in short order.

“Now can I?” Jeno whines, biting at Jaemin’s bottom lip.

“Yeah, but maybe keep the teeth out of it?” Jaemin says as soon as he lets go.

Then Jeno sinks to his knees, and Jaemin has to brace himself harder against the wall. It’s too hot watching Jeno unbutton his jeans, so he looks at the room instead.

“I forgot about this bathroom. How’d you know about it?”

“I’m a Chem major.”

“What?” Jaemin looks down in shock, briefly ignoring how Jeno slides his jeans down and breathes hot over the outline of his hard-on. “What are you doing in a general sciences lab then?”

“Finding pretty boys to fuck, obviously.” When Jaemin just blinks, he sighs. “It’s a prereq.”

“Oh. Well I guess that makes— _oh_ , oh fuck.”

Fingers and lips are nothing. Worthless. Jaemin will cut off his own hand and glue his mouth shut if he has to, if he had to pick just one place he wants Jeno’s mouth for the rest of time, or at least hopefully again after this. His lips slide over him so smoothly and his tongue laves at everywhere sensitive, and Jaemin’s knees almost buckle. The boy must already have a degree in this, or be some kind of prodigy, because Jaemin will never have it better.

Then Jeno does something indescribable by known languages, and Jaemin holds back a groan.

“I knew you’d be like this,” Jeno pauses and says, whatever _that_ means.

“Like what?”

His lips find their way up again and he takes most of Jaemin into his mouth, velvet heat enveloping beautifully, and Jaemin nearly cracks his skull against the wall. Jeno licks and pulls away.

“So easy to take apart.”

“Holy fuck.”

It doesn’t take long after that. Jaemin pretty much loses the ability to speak after Jeno gets his hands involved, and within a few minutes he’s over the edge in such a way that he can taste something almost electric behind his teeth.

Going back to class after will be hell, he thinks.

Jeno prudently cleans and disposed of the evidence, and accepts Jaemin’s offered hand to help him up.

“Normally I’d want to take my time with things,” he says, “but I have to get lunch after class.”

Jaemin pulls him forward and drops his forehead on Jeno’s shoulder. “You’re something else,” he says, still feeling weightless, and fumbling to put everything back in order.

“Thanks,” replies Jeno, thankfully not sounding too hoarse.

“So can I—“ He snakes a hand down over the front of Jeno’s black jeans, but only feels a vague dampness. “Oh. Uh, wow?”

“I got what I needed, no worries.”

Jaemin lifts his head up and grins to find Jeno actually looking shy, all pink and blushy, and he can’t resist pushing a thumb onto his tender bottom lip.

“It’s all right up here for you, huh?”

Jeno nods. “Pretty much.”

Getting more or less presentable takes another couple of minutes, and when Jaemin checks his phone he tries not to have a heart attack. “Professor is gonna boil us in acid,” he states, seeing the time.

“I hope not, she’s supposed to be my advisor. I’m just gonna say I felt sick, and you came to check on me. Which is why I was trying to use the thermometer to take my own temperature, clearly.”

“You’re… a genius?”

By the end of the period, Jaemin has it confirmed, as they leave with no bad marks and the professor advising Jeno make sure to rest up and feel better soon. They walk down the front steps of the building together, and Jaemin imagines it should feel weird or awkward, but Jeno has never seemed more comfortable in his life.

“So are we like, friends now?” He dares to ask.

Jeno lifts an eyebrow. “Did you want to keep being acquaintances slash lab partners?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Great. Then yeah, friends. Or we could get coffee sometime.”

Jaemin feels a smile crawl onto his lips, and he squeezes the straps of his backpack. “We could do that.”

—

 

They’ve just started to get to the really good bit of making out when Renjun shrieks, standing just inside the doorway of his and Jaemin’s room. When they’ve managed to get him calm, and Mark has caught up to all the commotion too, Renjun just shakes his head in disbelief.

“This is like, the opposite of transferring out of the school, Jaemin.”

“Yeah! I know, it’s pretty cool how that worked out. I thought I was gonna have to get plastic surgery and become unrecognizable or something. This is way better.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Really, you would always have been fine.”

Jeno nods agreeably.

“Probably,” Jaemin says. “Hey, maybe this means I can keep my phone next time we go out then! I’m safe now.”

“No.”

“Hell no.”

“Absolutely not.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that’s it! that’s all! it’s over now! im going back to my cave!

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/ImJaeBabie)   
> || [twt](https://twitter.com/imjaebabie?lang=en)   
> 


End file.
